


I'm Hungover, This Isn't the Right Apartment, and You're Pretty Cute.

by daaftpunkk



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, M/M, Modern AU, Sassy friends, Slow Build, got drunk and climbed through the wrong apartment window au, might have smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daaftpunkk/pseuds/daaftpunkk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mumbling to himself about Minho’s taste in decor, Thomas stumbled over to the couch, promptly falling onto it once he reached it. Within moments, the young man was out for the count, soft snores escaping his lips.</p>
<p>“Who the bloody hell are you?”"<br/>----<br/>After a night out with some friends, Thomas attempts to get back into Minho's apartment, drunk and stumbling. It's all fine and dandy, until he wakes up and sees a complete stranger staring down at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Couch

A soft knock at the door awoke a young, blonde boy from his sleep. His brown eyes - normally gentle and calm - were sharp with annoyance. He glanced over at the alarm clock on his nightstand, glaring at the bright, red numbers. They screamed the words “3 AM” at his mind, and he groaned to himself. _‘Who the hell would be here at this hour?’_ he thought to himself, just getting ready to fall back asleep when another knock came.

He mentally cursed his apartment for being so small, and contemplated getting up to check who was at the door. Instead, the blonde remained in his bed, figuring that if he was really needed, the person would knock again. Several minutes passed, and no other knock came. Shrugging to himself, he let the midnight intrusion of his sleep leave his mind, and tugged his covers up to his chin. The young man muttered something about needing to “fix the bloody heating” before he rolled over with a huff. The bright red numbers now casted a taunting glow on his back. He felt himself beginning to slip back into sleep, and - much to his annoyance - his last thought was of who could have been at the door.

-&-&-&-&-&-

Giggles erupted from a young man’s mouth as he stumbled down the hallway of some apartment building. He was almost certain his friend lived on this floor.  He ran a hand through his brunette hair, making it even messier than it already was, and lifted a brown bottle to his lips. Laughing still, he tipped his head back, downing whatever was left in it. Brown eyes, glazed over with the obvious effects of alcohol, looked around the empty hallway in confusion as he figured out where to put his empty beer bottle.

Deciding that the ground was good enough, he set it down. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance, and the bottle teetered over onto its side. A loud “thump” resounded through the hallway, and the boy frowned, brows furrowing as he continued onward. His eyes searched for a specific number on one of the doors, and upon finding the door he seeked, he began to let out a triumphant yell, only to have it cut off by a loud burp.

Chuckling at the noise he made, the dark-haired boy knocked on the door of the apartment, and leaned against the wall next to it. He waited for an answer, and when none came, he knocked again. The young man grew more and more impatient as time ticked by, the growing need to pee arising and making him hop in place.

Still not receiving an answer, the young man was about to leave, when an idea struck his mind - he was going to break into his friend’s apartment. In normal circumstances, he’d probably end up ringing his friend and impatiently telling them to let him in. Though, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he left his phone with his other friend. _‘Brenda? Or… Teresa!’_ he thought, tilting his head a bit and smiling to himself for figuring out who had his phone. It quickly turned upside down, though - he couldn’t remember where Teresa was. Or, for that matter, where any of his friends were.

The young man stroked his chin a bit as he thought, before shrugging it off. He figured they must have been close by. They had all gone out for drinks, and he remembered they said something along the lines of ‘ _You’re too drunk, Thomas, go home_ ’, and Minho saying his place was unlocked, to just go in…

He let those thoughts leave his mind, and concentrated on the idea he had scrounged up. With a look of determination set on his face, the brunette walked back down the hall, knowing one thing for sure - Minho’s windows were almost always open.

-&-&-&-&-&-

As Thomas stood outside in the chilly fall air, he realized maybe breaking in wasn’t the best idea. He also realized that Minho had closed his windows, and that the only way in was if he climbed up a bit, and unlocked them himself. Or, he could go inside and ring Minho himself, and tell him he didn’t unlock the doors.

Thomas shook his head - he couldn’t do that, he was already outside, and his friends would probably take another hour to get there. Besides, trying to remember Minho’s number would be fruitless with how wasted he was.

Repeating to himself that this was a great idea, he hopped up, trying to see where the latch was. His eyes spotted it after the third or fourth hop, and with a drunken smile, Thomas reached up to unlock it, tiptoeing and stretching the best he could.

A tiny ‘click’ was heard from above Thomas, and he pushed against the glass pane near his hand, giggling when he felt it give. ‘ _Oh, what a story I’ll have by the morning_ ,’ he thought to himself.

Hauling himself up so his front half leaned on the ledge of the window, Thomas dragged himself through the open window. He expected to be able to land on the couch directly under said window. Instead, he unceremoniously landed face-first on soft carpet. He groaned softly in pain - who knew carpet could be so _hard_ \- before getting to his feet, using a tiny table near him as support.

Thomas glanced around the apartment, sensing it’s layout to be unfamiliar. He spotted photo frames on the tiny table, and on some of the walls. He questioned when Minho moved things around, but the question left his mind when he spotted a leather couch only six feet from where he stood.

Mumbling to himself about Minho’s taste in decor, Thomas stumbled over to the couch, promptly falling onto it once he reached it. Within moments, the young man was out for the count, soft snores escaping his lips. In the back of his mind, he vaguely realized he didn’t recognize anyone in the photographs scattered about the apartment walls.

-&-&-&-&-&-

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

Thomas rolled over, blinking open his eyes with a soft groan. In front of him stood a young man with a skinny build, and fair hair. His brows were furrowed in confusion and slight caution, and with a jolt, Thomas realized he had no clue who this man was. His mouth gaped as he backtracked his thoughts, trying to piece together events from the night before. Getting drunk, being sent home, no one answering the door, climbing into Mino’s apartment through a window…

“Are you drunk?”

Thomas glanced up when the man spoke again, his accent slightly exaggerating the word ‘drunk’. Thomas mentally shook himself, and he sat up, looking around.

“Ah, uhm… no, I’m not… Hungover, yes, but drunk, no,” he answered, taking in his surroundings. Thomas frowned when he saw the couch he had apparently passed out on was not Minho’s, because his was over by the window he climbed in through, and it definitely wasn’t leather.

Realization hit Thomas like a freight train, and the young boy shot up from the couch, clutching the armrest when he wobbled slightly. Apologies frantically tumbled past his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip in worry.

“I-I’m so sorry. I thought… this was my friend’s apartment - we were out drinking, and I was wasted and he said ‘go home’ and I was like ‘well, okay’ and I must have read the wrong room number-”

“Slim it, Greenie,” the blonde interrupted, holding a hand up. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows at the unfamiliar word that was uttered.

“Greenie?” Thomas repeated. His acquaintance rolled his eyes at the confusion in Thomas’s voice.

“Well, you haven’t given me your name. You do have one, right?” he explained, and began to walk towards a small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at Thomas in a way that said ‘follow me’. “Mine’s Newt.”

Thomas complied with the stranger’s wordless command, whispering the boy’s name to himself. ‘ _Newt. Huh. Odd_ ,” he thought. He looked up and watched as Newt began to make some coffee, staying close to the entrance of the kitchen.

“There’s water in the fridge; help yourself. And please, if you feel like vomiting, the bathroom’s down the hall to the left,” Newt told him, turning around with a mug in his hand. He leaned back against the counter, one hand grasping the edge while the other lifted the mug to his lips, a smirk barely concealed.

Thomas chuckled, and quietly reassured Newt that he wasn’t going to throw up. He glanced around the kitchen, looking for and finding a tiny fridge. He opened it up and quickly grabbed a water bottle. Opening it, Thomas took a long drink from it, sighing as the cool liquid traveled down his throat. He was about to ask Newt if he had any aspirin when the young man held out his hand, showing two pills sitting in his palm.

“I imagine you have a killer headache, or you’ll have one soon,” Newt commented. Thomas nodded his thanks before downing the pills, exhaling softly after. The two stood in silence, both sipping their own drinks. It wasn’t long before Thomas began to feel awkward, as if he should apologize again.

“So, you never answered my question- do you have a name?” Newt asked again, beating Thomas to speaking and breaking the silence. He eyed Thomas a bit, never leaving his position against the counter. Thomas quickly nodded, and told the other his name.

“Well, Thomas, nice to meet you,” Newt murmured, and finally moved away from the counter, rinsing out his mug in the sink and setting it down. “Got any friends you might want to call?”

Thomas cleared his throat, scratching the base of his neck, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Ah, I think I left my phone with a friend… I believe my buddy’s place is somewhere in this building. You might’ve seen him before.”

“What’s he look like?” Newt questioned

“Uh, about my height, black hair, Asian, really muscular arms?”

“You mean that shank Minho?” Newt asked, turning to look at Thomas, surprise written across his facial features.

“Uh, yeah… Minho - you know him?” Thomas replied, tilting his head to the side a bit.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Newt mumbled, turning away from Thomas again. He walked out of the kitchen, and Thomas wordlessly followed.

“How do you know that slinthead?” Newt asked Thomas, making him chuckle.

“We grew up together; we’re roommates now,” Thomas explained. “How do you know him?”

“Met some time ago, in a class, freshman year of college,” Newt replied, walking over to the couch and fixing it up. “Started chatting, became friends, and eventually found out we lived in the same apartment complex.”

Thomas frowned a bit at that. How could they both know the same person, and never even met each other? He voiced his question to Newt, who shrugged wordlessly.

“It happens,” Newt answered, facing Thomas. “I’m surprised he didn’t just ask me to move in with him.” Newt grumbled almost bitterly, before shaking his head. “I suppose I wouldn’t be able to live with him for long, though - he has a knack for being talkative in the middle of the night.” Newt said with a wink. Thomas chuckled softly.

“If only he cleaned up as often as he talked,” Thomas said with a mock sigh of exasperation, earning a bout of laughter from the blonde. Thomas found himself smiling and laughing along with Newt, noticing the way the other would wrap an arm around his own midsection, his brown eyes closed as he giggled helplessly. Thomas barely noticed when they stopped laughing, too caught up in the way the blonde’s shoulder shook with every chuckle.

“Well, Tommy,” Newt began, after they both had calmed down, an easy smile on his lips. “How about we send you back home? Sure Minho could be worrying about you at this point, ‘specially if you lost your bloody phone.”

Thomas felt a funny tug at his heart at the nickname Newt used on him. He hadn’t been called that since… Fourth grade? He used to hate it, too - always insisted that everyone call him “ _Tom_ ” or just straight up “ _Thomas_ ”. His eyes flicked up and down Newt’s skinny body, finding it odd how he didn’t mind that Newt called him the silly pet name. In fact, Thomas liked it. The blonde’s accent made it that much more endearing, and he wondered if they would ever hang out, so he could hear him say his name like that again. Thomas felt his heart speed up at the thought of hanging around the Brit - the thought of making him laugh again, and getting to know him better.

“See something you like?” Newt commented sarcastically, a smirk brushing his lips as twirled around in a circle, arms spread out in a ‘ _voila_ ’ gesture. Thomas felt a faint blush creep up his neck, and he cleared his throat, realizing he had been staring at Newt for well over a minute now.

“Ah, no - I mean, you are attractive, but - I don’t - you probably-” Thomas tripped over his words, hands making various gestures as he tried to make up for gawking at the taller boy.

“Calm down, Tommy,” Newt laughed, placing a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “I was just joking around with you. Now, let’s go talk to Minho.” Thomas could have sworn he heard something akin to longing in the other man’s voice. His eyes seemed almost melancholy - a look that Thomas found himself not liking on his new acquaintance.

He looked into the other’s brown eyes - he noted that they were like the color of dark chocolate, and absolutely captivating. They were a nice contrast to his fair hair, which fell to about his eyebrows. His eyes wandered to Newt’s lips - thin but soft-looking, slightly chapped from what Thomas could tell.

The sound of Newt clearing his throat made Thomas tear his eyes away from his lips, glancing up at the other, who had a look of curiosity in his eyes. Thomas immediately stepped back a bit, avoiding Newt’s gaze as he swallowed, face burning in shame. He uttered a tiny “yeah, let’s go talk to Minho”, and kept his eyes trained on the carpet below him.

With a slight smile, Newt walked by his companion, heading towards the door to show him their way out. Thomas swore he felt Newt’s hand brush against the small of his back, as if he were reassuring the younger that everything was okay, but it was too faint to be sure. Thomas followed without a word, thoughts buzzing around in his mind, but one sticking out the most, chanting louder than the rest and making his head spin:

 

_He definitely wanted to see Newt again._

 

 


	2. Lunch Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Love at first sight?”
> 
> “This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, idiot,” Thomas sighed.  
> \- - - - -  
> There's love in the cafe air.

“Newt must have taken a liking to you.”

Thomas looked up from his phone (which he had gotten back, courtesy of Minho) when he heard his friend’s voice from the kitchen, a puzzled expression on his face. The blonde had just left Minho and Thomas’s shared apartment a few minutes ago, much to Thomas’s dismay. Both boys had apologized for Thomas’s actions, though Newt simply waved them off, stating that it was no problem at all. Now, Thomas sat on their couch, scrolling through his messages (who knew he could miss so much in one drunken night?).

“What do you mean?” the brunette questioned, watching as Minho came over to the couch, carrying a glass of water. He offered it to Thomas, who took it with a nod of thanks.

“Last time someone he didn’t know crashed at his place, he flipped,” Minho explained as Thomas sipped his water. “I was surprised when he didn’t seem like he wanted to tear your head off. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I told him I knew you?” Thomas offered, shrugging. 

“Really? With the way he was looking at you?” Minho teased, and Thomas felt his cheeks burn. He quickly set his drink down, shaking his head.

“He wasn’t looking at me in any certain way,” Thomas countered, rolling his eyes. “He was just being polite. Anyone would have done the same.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, looking like he was going to comment again, but decided against it after Thomas sent him a death glare. The Asian chuckled before he leaned against the couch, arms propping him up. 

“Anywho, speaking of that shank,” Minho continued. “We did have plans for lunch later on this week.” Thomas tilted his head, shrugging.

“And?” 

“And, I was wondering if your majesty would like to accompany us,” Minho teased, ruffling his friend’s hair. “After all, you both seem to be interested in one another.”

“I just met the guy, Minho,” the brunette countered, hastily swatting his friend’s hands away with a scowl. 

“Love at first sight?” 

“This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, idiot,” Thomas sighed. 

“True - neither of you are girls, and neither of you are little teenagers,” his friend commented. “I’ll take that as a yes, and that you’ll join us, then!” 

“Shut the hell up,” Thomas muttered, making Minho grin as he turned away, headed back towards the kitchen.

“A yes, indeed,” Minho added, and Thomas had to resist the urge to bury his face into a pillow. 

-&-&-&-&-&-

Four seats. Two of them occupied. Five minutes gone by.

Thomas bit his lip, his foot tapping the cafe’s tile flooring as he glanced around the tiny shop. Nervousness and excitement fluttered in his heart like a trapped bird, and he resisted the urge to check his phone for the thousandth time. Instead, he busied himself with trying to count the tiles on the floor. Beside him, Minho played a game on his phone, tapping out a text here and there. He cast a sideways glance towards his friend, raising an eyebrow. 

“Man, chill. Newt just said he was gonna be a few minutes late. He’s picking up Teresa, remember?” Minho said, nudging Thomas with his elbow. The brunette gave him a quick, small smile, nodding maybe a little bit too fast in acknowledgement. A million thoughts raced through his mind, just as they had throughout the rest of the week, ever since the idea of lunch with Newt had been brought up. Thomas had been fretting about it non-stop after the small conversation had ended. He had the luck of not encountering the blonde before then, but it had only built up his nerves even more.

Thomas had checked his outfit at least three times before Minho dragged him out of the apartment, telling him to calm down, that it wasn’t a date. Those words had hit Thomas much like a slap to the face - if it wasn’t a date, then why was he so excited but so nervous at the same time? He was getting all giddy over a guy he barely knew; if he technically knew him at all.

Thomas finally came to the conclusion that the lunch date would be his best opportunity to learn more about his new acquaintance, and silently swore to himself that he wouldn’t get invested in looks only.

-&-&-&-&-&

A few minutes after Minho’s comment and Thomas’s internal lecture, the cafe’s doors opened and a young girl with pale skin strode in, her black hair pushed behind her shoulders, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, and a very familiar blonde on her heels. Beside Thomas, Minho raised a hand, gathering the pair’s attention. The two quickly strode over to their table, settling down across from them. Teresa flashed Thomas a wink as she purposely sat down across from Minho, taking off her coat as she greeted them all. With an internal groan, Thomas realized Minho must have informed her of his apparent “crush” on the blonde.

“Hello, again,” Thomas heard someone say, and his gaze shifted from Teresa to Newt, who was sitting across from him with a small smirk. “Haven’t had any other drunken encounters, have you?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Haven’t had any strangers pass out on your couch?” he countered, earning a bark of laughter from Newt. He shook his head, still chuckling as he shrugged off his coat.

“You have to tell me how you managed that, by the way,” Teresa told Thomas, a playful smile on her lips. “Climbing through a window? While you were drunk?”

“He can barely manage it sober,” Minho added. Thomas scoffed lightly as the rest of them laughed, but he couldn’t help the smile that seemed to be stuck on his face.

The group chatted quietly about miscellaneous things - childhood memories, school, family, and even where Newt worked (turned out he worked part-time at a local bakery). Minho chided Thomas on the fact that he was still searching for a job (Thomas partly blamed his classes - they were at odd times, even Minho had to agree). Newt ended up joining Minho in his teasing, and Thomas was surprised at how easy it was to give him a snarky reply, and even more surprised when the blonde shot one back just as quickly. Teresa joined in on Thomas’s defense, creating a good-humoured argument on the importance of a job in college in this day and age.

Throughout it all, Thomas realized it was almost as if he hadn’t just met Newt a few days ago; it felt as though he had known the witty Brit his whole life, and they were just catching up after a few days apart. The way Thomas seemed drawn into every sentence Newt said should have been a warning sign to the brunette, but it was more like a friendly pat on the back, almost reassuring him that it was okay. Almost more than okay.

-&-&-&-&-&-

“Alright, hate to end the party so soon, but I have to get back to my apartment.”

The sound of Teresa’s voice cut through Thomas’s brain like a knife, and it drew him back to reality. He blinked, and looked around, noticing that Minho and Teresa had begun to put their jackets back on. Meanwhile, Newt still sat across from him, and also seemed to be startled by the sudden shift in the mood.

Thomas glanced down at his watch - _5:30 pm._

They had been sitting in that cafe for almost four hours. Thomas hadn’t even noticed - Newt and him had began talking about the blonde’s job again, and about places Thomas could possibly work.

Now, it was already pretty dark outside, and the cafe had cleared out for the most part. Thomas licked his lips, stretching his arms out and letting out a satisfied grunt when 

he heard his back crack. Across from him, Newt was rubbing his face, and yawning 

“Already tired, old man?” Thomas teased. Newt shot him a glare, but Thomas caught the hint of a smile on his lips.

“C’mon, lovebirds,” Minho said, nudging Thomas’s shoulder. “We should head back, anyways. God knows you probably left the stove on, and our apartment is probably burnt to a crisp.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, but got up regardless. A yawn stubbornly made it’s way past his lips, and he swore he heard Newt snickering.

The little group slowly began to make their way out of the cafe, small goodbyes exchanged between the four of them. Just as Newt and Teresa were about to part ways with Thomas and Minho, the brunette quickly remembered something.

“Oh, shucks - Newt, could I ask you something really quick?” Thomas asked, biting his lip. Newt nodded, and when Teresa gave him a frustrated glare, he dug his keys out of his pockets, handing them to the black-haired girl, commenting that he’d be there in a minute. Minho quickly followed suit, telling Thomas he’d wait for him at the sidewalk. The brunette was about to object, but the Asian was gone before he could say anything.

“So, what’s on your mind, Tommy?” Newt said, smiling warmly at him. Thomas couldn’t help but feel like that smile was almost reserved for him - he’d never seen such a gentle expression on the blonde’s face before that moment, not even around the others.

“Ah, I was just curious when your next shift at the bakery was,” Thomas responded, trying to ignore his pounding heart. “Ah, and maybe we could exchange numbers? You know, in case you wanna hang out again. Or just talk. If you want to, that is.”

Newt chuckled softly and nodded in agreement. He quickly told his new friend his phone number, and the next shift he had (which was that Saturday at 2 pm; Thomas repeated it to himself the whole way home). Thomas smiled after they exchanged numbers, feeling his nervousness fall away bit by bit. He laughed when Newt made him promise that he’d look for places to work, but agreed nonetheless.

“We should probably get going; Minho is probably wondering where the bloody hell you went, while Teresa might drive off without me any second now,” Newt finally said after a few minutes of small talk.

“Well, guess I’ll see you around, then,” Thomas answered with a wink. The blonde chuckled, and after a quick goodbye that seemed like eternity, Thomas found himself walking towards Minho with a grin on his face. His friend raised an eyebrow as he came over, and immediately began to ask questions (“Did you get his number?” “Are you gonna hang out soon?” “Did you two kiss?!” - “Yes, possibly, and no”) that Thomas only gave minimal replies to.

Minho gave up trying to squeeze details out of Thomas - even though the brunette insisted there were none to give - once they reached their apartment.

“Whatever happened, obviously it was enough to make you happy,” his friend commented.

And Thomas knew his friend had never been more right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sorry this was posted so late! A bunch of schoolwork popped out of nowhere, and unfortunately, it was my top priority. Each time I sat down to write, I remembered I either had another essay to work on or I was too tired to really think of anything. I think this chapter came out pretty decent, though. Hopefully, at some point in the near future, I can start updating regularly!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, lovelies! As always, thanks a bunch for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this !  
> It's based off of a tumblr post, and it's also my first Newtmas fanfic (or just TMR fanfic in general). I plan on making it a few chapters long, but who knows where it'll go!
> 
> Sorry if they seem OCC at any point ;;
> 
> Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think of it ! eue


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